


The Life and Times of the Tricycle's Training Wheel

by Newtavore



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Boys Are Dumb, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Resolution, Threesome - M/M/M, emotions are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtavore/pseuds/Newtavore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is a necessary component to the relationship, but clearly, he doesn't see it that way. After all, Karkat and Dave got on like a house on fire before he came along...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Life and Times of the Tricycle's Training Wheel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oobiemcruby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oobiemcruby/gifts).



> Hey man, happy holidays, hope this is acceptable! There's a bit of angst but all in all, it ends happy and cute, on a positive note, so...

You feel out of place.

 

It’s a weird feeling, one you don’t really understand all that well, because you really don't feel it that often- you’re great friends with Karkat, and you’d like to think you’re even better friends with Dave, and you’ve never been one to feel like the third wheel but something about the way they interact just makes you feel like you’re _intruding_. 

 

Maybe it’s because of all the time they spent on the meteor together. Dave can react to Karkat’s movements like they’re words, turning to face him and tilting his eyebrows just so, and Karkat reads him like a book, their communication silent and well practiced. Sometimes, when he’s not thinking, Dave does the same things with you, but you just... don’t get it. You don’t have years of experience to draw off of like they do, don’t have the same inherent understanding of the other’s quirks and body language that they’ve developed in their time together.

 

And sometimes, at night, when all three of you lie piled together like puppies after a long and tiring day whupping ass at video games and chowing down on unhealthy snack foods [except you, you still can’t touch sugar, it makes you nauseous so you just snack on celery and delight in the loud crunch-crunch-crunch of _vegetables_ ], they gravitate towards each other, settling into a familiar position, a practiced one, Karkat sprawled out on his back and Dave curling up half-draped over his chest, ice-cold hands shoved under the hem of Karkat’s shirt. Of course, you try not to let it get to you. You flop over on top of them and curl up around them and sort of insinuate yourself into their space and they always shift to accommodate you but you still feel _weird_ about it. You are the outsider here, the outlier, the vegetable in the fruit salad, and there’s only so much you can hide behind a smile and a few pies to the face.

 

Even if Dave looks really funny with whipped cream dripping from his stupid sunglasses.

 

But still, something has to break eventually- you were just expecting it to be you first. Not Dave, not ever calm and ever collected Dave, Dave who hides everything behind his blank fortress of a face and still feels, sometimes, like showing emotion is a weakness. You’re not expecting him to grab you by the back of the shirt and drag you to the kitchen, a scowl plastered over his usually placid face. You’re definitely not expecting him to plop your ass on a chair and sit right in front of you, on the table, cross legged with his elbows on his knees.

 

“What’s your deal?” he says, voice tight and controlled, the same tone you’ve heard him sling sicknasty beatdowns with at his weird ecto-brother-Dirk, “What’s the deal, man? Does this still weird you out? Are you still hung up on some weird internalized homophobia bullshit because come on, John, you’re in a relationship with a man and an alien now is a really good time to let that shit _go_ -”

 

“Dave, shut your skinny ass down in a real chair and stop lashing out at John because you’re an insecure fuckwit,” and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier to hear Karkat’s voice. He swoops into the kitchen like a calm hurricane, as oxymoronic as that sounds, easing some of Dave’s tension and actively directing it to more productive things- like clambering down from the table into a chair with a sullen “Sir yes sir.”

 

You feel out of place again.

 

“He’s doing it again!” Dave says, voice high and upset, and you cringe because you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this, so emotional-

 

“Dave. _Down_.”

 

Karkat sits down at the table, a cup of decaf coffee in his hands; he doesn’t drink caffeine, it makes him too jittery, makes him twitch and wracks his temper up even higher, something you’d never thought possible before moving in with them-

 

“Hi John,” he says, completely calm, in perfect, confusing contrast to Dave’s irascible and inexplicable anger-hurt, “How was your day today?”

 

You don’t think you’ve ever been more confused. Risking a glance over at Dave reveals him clenching his fists on the corner of the table, digging his nails in, then releasing, his face an unreadable, stony wall of blank inexpressiveness. Karkat just looks mildly irritated- the most neutral expression you’ve ever seen him wear. Something in your gut trembles, and for a moment, you feel like you’re sitting in the principal’s office, about to get suspended for putting whoopee cushions on teacher’s chairs, even though that’s ridiculous, because you are an adult and Karkat is not a school official, and even if he was, he would no longer have any authority over you.

 

Somehow, you think this might be worse, because Karkat is your _boyfriend_ , and Dave is your _boyfriend_ , and somehow, somewhere, you managed to fuck up.

 

“Am I in trouble?” you ask, and you try to make it sound funny, make it sound like a joke, haha, look at you you’re hilarious, except it comes out a little too shaky for that.

 

It’s not an illogical thought. You feel like you’re on a tribunal, and they’re the judges of your inescapable fate.

 

Karkat shakes his head no, but you still can’t relax, your heart pounding and your hands sweaty enough to leave damp spots on your pants when you wipe them off. Dave’s lips twitch, but you can’t tell if it’s because he wants to laugh or because he wants to yell at you- Karkat apparently can, though, because his hand reaches out and settles on Dave’s thigh, thumb rubbing the curve of it gently.

 

“That-!” Dave bursts out, suddenly, pointing across the table at you, and the sudden motion from the previously statue-still man has you jumping, “Whenever Karkat and I do anything, you hunch your shoulders and look away like you’re fuckin’ _disgusted_ , what is your _deal_ -”

 

Realization dawns on you like it had the poor, poor men who refused to put the bunny back in the box. The gut trembling gets worse- you know it’s a logical conclusion to draw, judging by your past treatment of Dave, and Karkat, and Dave and Karkat- but honestly, you hadn’t even _noticed_ -

 

And apparently Karkat can read you just as well as he can read Dave, because he rolls his eyes and uses the hand not gripping Dave’s wrist to slap his own forehead, grumbling obscenities to himself.

 

“You’re both idiots,” he says, in the most supremely disgusted tone imaginable, so much so that you can acutely picture the slug he likely sees when his gaze lands on you, “Idiots who don’t know how to fucking communicate. I’ve seen grubs with better speech skills than you. I’ve seen lusii with better speech skills than you. I have seen clods of dirt on the bottom of my shoe, that possess more of a brain for communication than the two shitfucking asslickers currently sitting on either side of my poor, singularly intelligent body.”

 

He’s gearing up for a proper rant, and normally you’d try to deflect him, because the vein that throbs in his forehead makes you a little nervous about his health, sometimes, but this time you just duck your head and take it, letting his irritation wash over you.

 

“I am the only one in this entire fucking apartment who understands how words work. I am the singular intelligent organism in the primordial ooze of your stupidity. the only reason I put up with either of you is because I love you, and even then, if you were still godtier I would probably strangle you both.”

 

Even Dave is starting to look a little cowed, and you shift, reaching a foot out to nudge his under the table. After a moment’s hesitation, he nudges back, and you think, for the first time since sitting at this kitchen table, that maybe you haven’t irrevocably fucked up after all.

 

“You two are idiots, squared. I am ashamed to breathe the same air as you. I am absolutely fucking astounded that you survived the game, because apparently neither of you know how to fucking talk, much less do anything else of import. So that’s what we are going to do, right the fuck now. We are going to sit here, and we are going to talk, and I don’t want to hear a single fucking complaint or I really will throw one of you out the goddamn window.”

 

Both of you nod. Then, you just… sit and stare at each other, because you don’t really want to speak first and Dave, if he opens his mouth, will probably never stop talking, and discussing feelings is, in your opinion, not really a very manly thing to do.

 

Karkat sighs again. You open your mouth.

 

“I just feel _weird_ ,” you blurt out, and Dave gets this look about his face, stormy dark, so you keep talking as fast as you can, not even thinking about the words you spit into the open air, “I mean- You and Karkat, you guys work so well together, and I feel like I just… don’t fit? Because I don’t- I wasn’t there for years, and you and Karkat were together and had all that time to learn about each other and now I feel like training wheels on a tricycle and I just-”

 

As soon as you stop, Dave starts, his voice pitching up at the end, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

 

“You mean to tell me that this is all over some bullshit jealousy garbage-”

 

“I’m not _jealous_ -” you spit out, and he talks over you, and you talk over him, and tempers run too high for comfort again until Karkat’s hands slam down on the table hard enough for something to crack. You hope it wasn’t his hand.

 

“I said _talk_ ,” and the way he stresses the word ‘talk’ makes you realize there’s no way you’re escaping without having a legit heart-to-heart with Dave, which is weird, because it’s Dave and Dave doesn’t do emotions, “Do I need to get handcuffs. I will handcuff you two together, I swear to god.”

 

The both of you shake your heads. You’ve already been handcuffed to Dave once, and it was the most awkward experience you’ve ever had- and all because of a backfired prank on your part.

 

The silence stretches on, and on, and on, and the only sounds are the clock-cat ticking away in the corner and the slight pick-pick-pick of Karkat cleaning out his nails, the pointed yellow claws glinting under the bright kitchen lights. You feel trapped, like you’re in the middle of a freeway and they’re both cars bearing down at you from opposite directions, and finally the silence is too much; you open your mouth, and words come out. Like magic.

 

“I feel like you guys don’t need me. Like I’m- I’m in the way.”

 

There, you said it. Your face is red and you’re breathing kind of hard, and your hands may be shaking a bit, but you said it. Dave is staring at you funny, his head slightly tilted to the side, and Karkat’s just glancing down at his nails like this is not a revelation to him; for all you know, it might not be. Perhaps he knew all along.

 

“Sometimes I wonder if I should be here at all. I love you guys, I really do, and-- I know I was an ass, and it took a long time to admit that, but I do. It makes me happy to see you happy. Sometimes, I just wonder if maybe you’d be happier if-”

 

The rest of your sentence is muffled, a hot, heavy hand pressed over your mouth. Karkat looks almost bored as he glances at you, claws pricking gently against the skin of your chin as he shifts his grip to your jaw, tilting your head towards him.

 

“Shut up, John,” he says, and his tone is so soft, so affectionate that you want to lay down and roll in it, “If you weren’t working, we would have told you. But, clearly, since we haven’t said anything, your imagination is overrunning what little common sense you actually have in your tiny, squishy human brain.”

 

Dave disappears for a moment, then slides up between your legs from under the table like a misbehaving child at a restaurant, his own thin limbs wrapping around your waist as his head tucks itself against your stomach.

 

“...Sorry for yellin’ at you,” is all he says, soft and squished against your skin, hair fluffy against your fingers as you drop a hand down to the top of his head, “Karkat’s right. You’re an idiot, but you’re our idiot, y’know? Wouldn’t have it any other way, John.”

 

Tears in your eyes? What tears in your eyes? You just have some dust in them, that’s all, dust that you don’t really bother wiping away as you lean your shoulder in to press against Karkat’s, your head tucked under his chin. Dave’s still half sprawled in your lap, and your fingers comb through his hair, rubbing his temples the way he likes and the way Karkat can’t because of his terrifyingly pointed claws [which he refuses to cut, because apparently it’s the same as declawing a cat? Ouch]. He sighs, and you sigh, and Karkat lets out the biggest, most put upon sigh of all before ushering the both of you up and guiding you to the couch, shoving you down, shoving dave down on top of you; you let out an oof of breath, but before you can even open your mouth, Karkat settles on top of him, perching on your tangled bodies like a rather proud mama bird on top of her foolish little birdlings.

 

“Now we’re going to fucking cuddle and watch Pride and Prejudice, and neither of you are allowed to complain.”

 

There’s a groan, and you aren’t even sure if it’s from you or Dave at this point, because you know-

 

“The four hour version?”

 

“The four hour version.”

 

-that you’re going to be stuck here for at least four hours, maybe more if Dave falls asleep on top of you.

 

But Dave settles into a better position sprawled across your chest like a bony, ineffectual blanket, his icy limbs shoved inside your shirt this time, and Karkat settles back against the couch, still sitting on Dave’s back, his legs splayed out and an ankle pressed against your side. It’s… nice. You feel grounded in a way that’s usually hard for you to achieve, and you rest your head on a throw pillow and run your fingers through Dave’s hair until he’s nothing but a limp weight draped across your torso, free hand tangled around the stupid, handwoven hippie anklets Karkat wears because Feferi made them and she’d be sad if he didn’t. It’s nice, just… laying with them. Breathing them in. You can feel yourself relaxing just as much as Dave, Karkat slowly sinking down as they all squish together into a weird heaping pile of awkward limbs and weirder relationship issues.

 

You smile, and peck Dave on the top of his head. Karkat paps you on the ear and hushes you, utterly riveted even though he’s seen this movie at least seventeen times in the past month.

 

God, you love them. You love them so much that it hurts, love them so much that all this- all the fighting is worth it. You being an idiot is worth it, because it means you still have them. Maybe you should say in spite of you being an idiot, you still have them? Who knows.

 

It’s the truth, either way.

 

You’re slowly being squished to death by your weird alien lover and your weirder man lover, and you’ve never been more confident that they actually want you here. You’ve never bee fucking happier.

 

 


End file.
